Goodbye and Hello
by shawishot
Summary: In the weeks following Shaw's disappearance, Root is in a rage and on a rampage. She's determined to find Shaw no matter what but is thrown for a loop when The Machine, newly coded with rules respecting human privacy, is not as helpful as she thought when it is finally confirmed that Shaw is alive and well. Takes place after the events of 4x11.
1. Chapter 1

Takes place after 4x11

_9 weeks after the kiss Shaw planted on her_

Root is angry. Angry at herself, at the world, at the Machine, and yes, at Shaw. This anger won't go away, no matter how much Root wants it to. She's tired of living in anger and sometimes when her eyes close as she's in bed and she's in-between wakefulness and sleep, she thinks how much easier life would have been without Her.

It's only at night, though, when Root is tired and her natural defenses lower, that she admits she doesn't want to be angry. In the morning, when her eyes open and she is hit with the realization that once again she is facing a world without Sameen Shaw, her anger bursts forth, renewed.

_How dare they take Shaw from her._

_How dare The Machine send Shaw into danger knowingly._

_How dare Sameen kiss her like that and leave her all at once._

Root only knows she must find Shaw, wherever she is. She knows Finch, deep down, thinks Shaw is dead. She doesn't know what Reese thinks and she honestly doesn't care. If Shaw were dead, she'd know it, wouldn't she? The world would somehow tell her.

Root swings her legs off the bed, ready to undertake another day of searching, of revenge against the people who had a hand in hurting Shaw. She smiles coldly.

Guns blazing, Root shoots her way down into the heart of the warehouse. She listens obediently as She whispers in her ear, telling her where to turn, where to shoot, who's coming. She kneels behind a shipping container, awaiting further instructions.

_Beep._

"Bad time, Harold." whispers Root as she shoots the man running towards her. Finch clears his voice and replies "Ms. Groves…"

Root hears the wavering in his voice. She knows.

"Harold. What is it? Have you found her?"

More clearing of his throat. "Ms. Groves… I have news. You should come to the subway to hear this. I will expect you shortly after you extricate yourself from present company."

Before Root can ask questions, his voice is gone.

Impatient to hear what Finch has to say, Root stands up and leaves the safety of the shipping container, guns popping like crazy. She wants this mission over with now. She can't, won't be able to stand waiting any longer. What if it's confirmation that Shaw is gone? She wouldn't be able to bear that but she must know.

Bear's ears perk up and Finch knows Root has arrived. He is not looking forward to sharing the information he has with her, but it must be done. He takes his glasses off to wipe his face, and hears Root's voice behind him "Yes, Harold?"

Swiveling around slowly to face Root, Finch pauses, not knowing how to begin. "Out with it, Harry."

"Ms. Groves… The Machine contacted me this morning." Root inwardly braced herself. "Miss Shaw has been located. Alive."

Hope flashed in Root's eyes until she heard Finch continue, "However, the Machine has decided not to divulge Miss Shaw's location."

"What?" snapped Root. "Come on! This is the first we've heard of her since she disappeared! Why wouldn't She say where Shaw is?" Realization hit her and hope turned to anger. "This is because of your damn fail-safes that you installed within Her, isn't it?" Finch stared at her gravely, remaining silent. "Having Her 'respect the wishes' of humans is ludicrous! You should've left Her code pure!"

Finch sighed and wiped his brow once again. "Ms. Groves… the world as we know it almost ended with Samaratian. We were incredibly fortunate to have stopped Samaratian before it did a complete takeover of the world. Now, as the creator of The Machine, I felt it was my duty to remedy the all-seeing power it had. Of the highest priority: protecting and respecting human will. I am sorry that you find it inconvenient but we know very well how necessary this restriction is."

Root could not listen to reason. She wanted to flee to Sameen now, this very moment, but she couldn't because The Machine wanted to "respect" Shaw and not disclose her location. Root almost laughed aloud at how incredibly absurd this was.

"Ms. Groves… I implore you to take this as good news, as we now know Miss Shaw is apparently alive and breathing."

Root stared coldly at Harold. "I'm not alive and breathing yet." With that, she turned and walked out, leaving Finch staring sadly after her. He knew how that felt, yes he did. _Oh, Grace._

With the sunlight bright on her face, Root walked aimlessly. Finding herself in a park, she sat on the nearest bench and continued her struggle with Her.

Please tell me where Sameen is. **Former Asset Shaw Location Unavailable** beeped at her incessantly.

Root wanted to kick something, hit someone, anything. She screamed in frustration instead.

_-One week after The Machine reveals Shaw is alive-_

Its been a week. Fucking Shaw thought Root. By now, she was nearly certain that the silence was entirely Shaw's choice. Her anger had evolved; in the beginning, it was anger and terror at the thought that Shaw was gone; taken from her before they ever had a chance. Now the terror was gone; replaced by ice-cold rage that Shaw would, could do this to her. Fucking Axis II personality disorder.

Despite this, not a day passes without Root attempting to gather more intel on Shaw's whereabouts. If nothing more, she'd like to get her hands on Shaw's throat and squeeze the life away from her, just like she felt the life was being squeezed from her now.

Root even, one of those evenings, sits down and writes out a few line of code on paper. This is the beginning of an idea for some code that would help her hack Her, get Her to bypass the newly implanted parameters that Harold had coded. Before she could write the sixth line, she hears a warning beep in her ear.

**Analogue Interface will be deactivated if further work is attempted on this code**

Root crumples up the paper and tosses it in the wastebasket. She knows she cannot bear life without Her. Sitting there with her head in her hands, she wonders how she can let this all go. It feels impossible at this point, and with confirmation that Shaw is alive, it somehow feels worse for not being able to see for herself.

Wait. Confirmation. Root jerks her head up. Why didn't she think of this earlier?

Shaw… I believe you about her being alive, but how do I know for certain she's not being held against her will or too injured to reach out? I need visual confirmation, or some kind of credible proof.

**…**

As the Machine's voice whirred in her ear, Root waited. She hopes her rational request may just skirt the parameters set in place.

**Request accepted. Searching for Former Asset Shaw…**

Root's heart skips a beat. It worked! She wants to crow that she has found a way around Harold, but more important matters await.

**Video incoming**

Finally, the Machine displays live video from a phone She has taken over, and the jerky motion makes Root feel a bit nauseous. She stares intently at the video and THERE! She spots Shaw sitting in a chair outside a cafe, sipping coffee. Root for a second thinks that the Machine may have tried to fool her by showing video from Her archives, but as Shaw turns her head, Root's breath catches. There is a hugomonous scar lining Shaw's right cheek, from her sideburn area down to her throat. That definitely was new. Root also notices Shaw's eyes catch onto the phone and narrow. Root knows that Shaw can't possibly know she's "there" but… she gasps as Shaw angrily mouths the word 'no' and the video is cut off.

**Former Asset Shaw requested disconnection**

I know, snaps Root. Her elation at having seen Shaw, actually seen her, is extremely short-lived as reality crashes down on her.

_Shaw. Does. Not. Want. Contact._

_She is alive._

_She doesn't want to see or talk to me._

Root feels her heart break in a million little pieces.

* * *

Hope to have the next chapter up by the weekend!


	2. Chapter 2

The empty shot glass slams down on the bar and the bartender turns around to inquire whether another one is desired. "Hell yes, another one", mumbles Root. "Are you sure? That'll be your sixth one," states the bartender, a slightly worried look on his face. "You my daddy?" The bartender turns around and silently pours another one. He's seen that kind of drinker before, full of grief and anger and that kind of stuff doesn't often end well. He sighs and as he slams down the shot in front of Root, he mutters, "I'm cutting you off after this one."

Root smirks and salutes him as she downs that one. She's thankfully numb and she doesn't give a fuck. She slowly spins around on her barstool to survey the club. Her eyes study the crowd until they set on a lone female, nice build, dark brown hair. _Passable_. Root slides off the stool and approaches her.

Soon, both are dancing and grinding against each other. In the darkened club, it's easy for Root to escape into her imagination and lose herself in pleasure. Hands slide everywhere, lips meet, tongues mingle, desire rises. Soon, Root finds herself in a bathroom stall looking down at the complete stranger who's licking her down there. It feels good and Root moans as she feels the tongue make circles around her clit and suck gently. Her hips jerk as the orgasm ripples through her and she wonders why her orgasms are no longer as powerful as they were. _Dontthinkdontthinkabouther_ she tells herself as she pushes the stranger away and stumbles out of the stall, leaving a "Hey!" trailing behind her.

Shaw sips at her coffee, surveying the crowd of tourists milling around on the plaza. She doesn't know why she decided to go to the café and sit outside, she doesn't know anyone and looking at all the strangers around her just makes her feel lonely and more out of place than ever. Her gaze settles on a couple walking hand in hand and she watches them as they stroll across the plaza until they are long out of sight. Shaw knows that she's not the hand holding type, _fuck no_, but she does miss having a person to lean on sometimes.

_Fuck that sentimental shit_. Shaw scowls because she's angry she can't keep Root out of her thoughts. Its been months since she was shot and captured by Samartian's agents. Months since she kissed Root good-bye. _It was just a fucking goodbye kiss._ _Oh was it? You kissed her for a reason_, another voice in her mind said. Shaking her head, Shaw stands up abruptly and tosses a lira note on the table for the coffee and stalks away.

Back in her rented room, Shaw sat sullenly in the dark, loosely tossing a knife from one hand to another. PTSD. What a joke. She couldn't believe that a couple of weeks of torture had thrown her so off-kilter. She remembered everything the psychiatrist had said about PTSD, especially that "Sometimes symptoms appear seemingly out of the blue. ... While everyone experiences PTSD differently, there are three main types of symptoms:

_Re-experiencing the traumatic event._

_Avoiding reminders of the trauma._

_Increased anxiety and emotional arousal._

She knew the diagnosis of PTSD fit her to a T. She couldn't stop replaying the events that led up to her near death, capture and torture… especially not the part where she lost her mind, grabbed Root, and kissed her. It was that kiss that kept her from returning to the team, back in New York City. She couldn't face the team, much less Root. What the fuck would she say? She couldn't even get up the courage to tell them she was alive. But she knew that somehow the Machine knew she was alive. She remembered the day she saw a tourist innocently carrying his phone and she had seen it start up its video camera without the tourist's knowledge. She'd bet her ass it was Root or Finch… or even the Machine herself. She remembered mouthing the word "no" to the camera and it had snapped off instantly. _Wasn't that something?_ The Machine listening to her?

As Shaw looked down at the knife she was playing with, she had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She knew that once the team found out she was alive, they'd feel betrayed. Hell, she would if she were in their shoes. You just didn't do that to a team. You didn't do that to someone you were… friends, or whatever the fuck it was, with. Most of all, she didn't want to imagine Root's face when she realized Shaw was alive but not coming back. _Fuck. _Shaw angrily threw the knife at the wall and it stuck there, jutting out from the wall.

As the morning sunshine crept up on her, Root rose her head from the bed where she was slumped on. Her head was pounding and she knew she had overindulged once again last night. _Shit_. The bed creaked, and Root, alarmed, swung over to look at the other side of the bed. _Holy hell._ A head full of blonde _blonde!_ _so not my type!_ hair was lying on the pillow next to hers. Root groaned _Great another woman to toss out of here._

"Get the fuck outta here." The blonde hair swiveled to give way to a sleepy face but as Root repeated her command, the face didn't look so sleepy anymore. The blonde scowled and got up in a huff. As the door slammed, Root wearily got up and headed for the shower.

As the hot water cascaded down around her, Root tried to remember the events of the night before. A vague recollection of her sitting at the bar and thinking that she might need to try different types of females other than the athletic, moody brunette type came to her and Root sighed. Her heart hurt, really hurt for Sameen and Root didn't know what to do other than continue on the downspiral path she was currently on. Alcohol and women couldn't make her forget, so now what? A tear, then two, then a river of them slid down her face along with the shower spray as she sat down in the shower and sobbed.

Shaw took a seat in the bar with a band that was playing some half-assed Italian music. She didn't want to listen to that music, but that bar was the only one that served halfway decent draft beer. She rolled her eyes at the dramatic way the lead singer was singing. _Its not the fucking opera, okay?_

As Shaw sat, studying her half-empty glass of beer, she heard "Bad day?" She looked up and over at the woman sitting two stools over, smiling at her. "No. Just that fucking music." The woman chuckled, "Its not that bad!" Shaw took another sip of her beer before saying "To each her own."

The woman tossed back her blonde hair and leaned forward. "So, you can tell me. What's got your panties twisted up in a bunch?" Shaw looked at her, thinking, _this is the first person to actually talk to me in how long. _"Home." The woman leaned back knowingly. "Ah… let me guess. You want to go home, but you don't want to deal with stuff back there." Shaw stared at her silently as the woman continued "Yeah. I went through the same shit awhile back. Turns out that however much I tried to run from it, I could never get away completely. I decided to just confront it and while it wasn't easy, and not everything worked out the way I wanted it to, I became myself again. And that was one of the best things I ever did for myself."

Shaw tries not to show how affected she is by the woman's words. She gulps down the remainder of her beer and manages a feeble "Yeah. I'll have to think about that." The woman smiled and gestured for the bartender to serve Shaw another beer. "My treat. Just remember that your roots are what make you stronger." With that, the woman slid off her seat and headed for the door saying, "I have to go. Enjoy the beer and I wish you the best of luck."

Shaw stared as the woman made her exit. _Jesus. "Just remember that your __**roots**__ are what make you stronger" was a fucking coincidence_. Shaw sighed. Maybe it really was time to go home. She didn't know which would be worse, just the sight of Root or dealing with all the emo bullshit with everyone involved.


End file.
